Start Me Up
by GrayBlaze13
Summary: It hasn't been an easy few months for Sam or Dean, physically or emotionally. Things aren't always apple pie in the lives of our two favorite hunters. A long car ride and a high temper can prove it. But they're brothers, and they always will be. Nothing can ever change that. Just a brother bonding one shot with classic rock.


A/N This is my first official fic. Title and song lyric credits go to The Rolling Stones. Characters belong to SPN and its writers. Please review, I love feedback.

Pain. Pain in his body, his mind, his soul; pain was everywhere. It was all consuming, all encompassing, filling him to the brim with anguish and despair. Damn. All his complaining sounded like the emo self help crap he hated, even in his head. But he had good reason for it. Yes, he had several very good reasons to be in pain right now. But he didn't want to be. He hated the feeling of being weak, of wanting to cry and break down. He sure felt that way right now. Dean clenched his tired hands even harder on the steering

wheel, gritting his teeth against the soreness in his arms. In his everywhere, really. Not that that was the biggest thing on his mind right now. No, he had bigger, even more painful things to worry about. Green eyes flicked from the road on to one of those problems, which sat huddled in the passenger seat. Yeah, Sammy probably wasn't doing so hot at the moment, dean thought scornfully. Scorn. Sarcasm. Denial. Liquor. A cocky attitude had gotten Dean through many hard things in his life. Just push it all down, lock it all away, and you'll be fine until someone forces you to talk about it. To share your feelings. The whole idea of letting people in into his locked box, letting them see him for who he truly was, what he truly though... Well, he head enough trouble living with himself. No need to drag other people into the broken mess that was Dean Winchester. Well, except for Sam. Everything always led back to Sam.

Speaking of whom, Sam was not doing so well. Dean chanced another glance at the hazel haired lump sitting next to him. Sam stared straight ahead, puffy red puppy dog eyes full of exhaustion and sorrow. But that was their lives, wasn't it? Always tired, always hurt, always on the road, heading to their next crappy hotel and near death experience. Dean sighed and rubbed a tired hand down his unshaven face. He hated it enough when _he_ was in pain, but when _Sam_ was... Dean hated himself even more for not being able to fix all his little brothers problems. It was his _job_ , to take _care_ of him. It had been drilled into him since he was barely four. You are big brother. This is little brother. Take care of little brother. Always. But little brother was an adult now, and had faced enough crap for a lifetime in the two and a half years since Dean ripped him from his comfortable college life at Stanford. Sam had done things, been put through things, learned things about himself that even the great Dean Winchester shuddered at. No. He couldn't think about that now. It wouldn't help Sam. And helping Sam was his goal right now. His goal always. He sure as hell couldn't fix all of Sam's problems, heck, maybe not any of them, but he could at least try. He would always try, for Sam.

"Sam." Dean said, taking his eyes from the road for a moment to look at his brother. "Sammy." Sam didn't answer. Dean sighed again. He was going to have to do some talking and sharing of feelings for Sam to talk to _him._ He tried again. "Look, man, I know these past few days have been rough, and I get it, I do, but you have to at least _talk_ to me, you know? I don't know how to help you if I don't even know how you're feeling."

"You know how I'm feeling, Dean!" Sam exclaimed angrily. "I'm feeling crappy, okay? I feel like crap and there's nothing you can do about it!" he glared angrily out the window. Dean was taken aback. He knew Sam could get pissed, get angry, but he was never usually this angry at himself, or at Dean.

"Sammy, I-"

"No, Dean, just no. I don't want you to try and _help_ me right now. I'm really not in the mood for a Dean Winchester therapy session." Now Dean was really confused.

"Dude, what are you talking about? I just want to make sure you're-" he cut off. "Well, not okay, but at least, you know fine? Bad, but dealing? I know how hard these last few days have been and I just-"

 _"Days,_ Dean? _Days?_ These past few _months_ have been hard on me!" Sam said, anger obvious in his voice. Dean looked at him, bewildered. These past few months... Sure, they'd gone on a few rather... unsatisfactory hunts, trying to kill all the demons that had escaped from the Hell's Gate, but hadn't been _torture._ But slowly it started to dawn on him. Sam didn't mean hunting. He meant Dean. Dean's deal. Now Dean completely understood. In less than a year, he would be leaving Sammy, for good.

"Oh, you mean..." he trailed off, realizing the full extent of his brothers pain at the moment.

 _"Yes ,_ Dean. _Oh._ " Sam said exasperatedly.

"The deal." Dean said slowly, exhaling. They were doing this now.

"Yes, Dean, your deal."

"Why are you bringing this up right now?" Dean asked tiredly. He _really_ didn't want to talk about this right now. Or ever.

"Because you need to know, Dean!" Sam said. "You're going to _die_. In less than a _year_. You can't just keep pretending that everything is okay!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Dean asked. He was getting a little angry. "Do you want me to be depressed? Do you want me to lie in bed, contemplating my existence, picking out a coffin? Do you want me to mope around, wishing I had more time? Because I do, Sam. I do wish I had more time. But I don't, and nothing is going to change that!"

"But you can't just pretend it's not going to happen, Dean! You can't keep throwing yourself in harms way just to try and _save_ me, all right? I only have a few months left with you, and if something were to happen before then, I just couldn't..." Sam trailed off helplessly, avoiding Dean's gaze.

"Sammy, if you mean yesterday, I was just, it was just..." Dean paused, looking for the right words. "I wasn't in any real danger." he looked at Sam.

"No, Dean, letting a werewolf jump you and almost bite you sure isn't danger." Sam scoffed.

"Oh, please Sammy, I had it all under control." Dean smirked. "That little fanged bitch ain't got nothing on me."

"The only reason she didn't kill you is because I had to shoot her!" Sam exclaimed. Dean looked back to the road. He felt another sigh coming on.

"Sam, you've gotta understand, It's my job, okay? It's just what I do. I protect you. I don't really know how to do anything else." Dean looked at Sam, who was looking out the window with those sad, angry puppy eyes.

"Well maybe I don't need protecting." Sam said quietly, but Dean could tell he wasn't really mad anymore. "Maybe I'm a grown man who can take care of myself."

"Maybe that doesn't matter to me." Dean said patiently. "I mean, you'll need to be able to take care of yourself soon, but until then I'm gonna fight every single evil son of a bitch that tries to lay a finger on you. On anyone. That's just who I am. That's how I'll be till the end. I just wish the end wasn't coming so soon." He tried for a watery smile. Sam looked up at him, liquid hazel eyes dismal and full of pain.

"I can't lose you Dean. I just can't. Not like this. We'll find a way to save you, I know we will." Sam wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Dean or himself. "I promise."

"Sam, you can't-." Dean stopped, and decided to let the matter rest. "I'll always be there for you Sam. No matter what.

"Me too, Dean. You're my brother, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You're not dying on my watch." Dean gave him a half-hearted smile. He was going to die. He knew there was no way to save anyone from demon deals. But he would fight with tooth and nail, until his last breath, if it meant Sammy would be safe.

Dean reached for the radio. He'd had enough chick flick moments for today. For a week. He tuned in to a random station, to hear the opening guitar licks of Start Me Up by the Stones. A crooked grin settled onto his face.

"If you start me up. If you start me up I'll never stop." Dean sang along, ignoring the irony of the lyrics and just losing himself in the song. "You've got me ticking gonna blow my top." Sam looked at him, startled. "Stop moping, Sammy, and sing along!" Dean grinned at his brother. Sam looked at him for a moment, a smile chasing away the grief on his face.

"You make a grown man cry. You make a grown man cry." the brothers sang together, as the sun started pushing its way through the night sky, giving the landscape a soft glow"I walk smooth, ride in a mean, mean machine." They were loud and off key, but it didn't matter, because they were doing it together, sharing a moment, treasuring a small piece of their time together. They didn't have a lot of it left. But they were content in that moment, in each others company, doing their jobs, together. Always, together. Until the very end.


End file.
